The Two-Faced Turnabout
by KoopaSensei
Summary: In the aftermath of an explosive breakout scheme at Arkham Asylum, Harvey Dent will stand trial for second degree murder, and this time the stakes are larger than ever before for the insane criminal. Luckily for him, Athena Cykes has taken his case, and flown out to Gotham to try and solve the crime!
1. Prologue, Part 1

It was another boring Thursday at the Wright Anything Agency. It had been several months since their last big trial, where Athena was proven innocent. Since then, it had been very slow for the office. Trucy had been making enough money through shows that she made sure they didn't have to dive too deep into their savings to pay rent, but that wasn't the cause for their low spirits. Their ailment was the doldrums of life between cases. It was fortuitous, then, that they were all in the office and conscious when the phone rang.

"I've got it!" Apollo and Athena both yelled simultaneously, but sadly for their antenna-haired attorney, Athena was standing within arm's reach of the receiver. She lifted to her ear and said, "Wright Anything Agency, the best place for bar shows, children's birthday parties, and criminal defense."

"Is this Athena Cykes?" a man with a resonate, baritone voice responded. The man sounded like he was trying to appear nonchalant and conversational, but he wasn't succeeding very well.

Athena was more than a little surprised at that. Nearly every call the office got were for Trucy, and the few that weren't were wrong numbers. "Yes, this is Athena speaking."

There was a short pause before the caller continued. "I have a case I'd like you to handle. If it's okay with you, I'd like to pay half of the money beforehand and the other half if you've successfully defended your client in court."

Well that certainly was…mysterious of him. "And how much will you be paying?"

"Two hundred thousand dollars."

Athena stood there, her mouth hanging agape. Then she regained her senses, and realized how unprofessional it was to just stop talking after a potential client offers you several times more money than you've ever had in a bank account in your life. "Yes, I, uh, yes that's okay with us. Who is in need of my defense?"

The man on the other end sighed. "I'd prefer not to tell you yet. Let's just say that I'm confident he's innocent, and being framed." Athena could hear the man's emotions even through the phone. He was incredibly stressed and afraid for someone. He was telling the truth when he said that he thought the defendant was innocent. She heard something else, a low thrum of sadness that underplayed everything else.

She didn't have to think too hard about her response. "I'll take the case, Mr…?"

He actually laughed at that. "Oh, you'll find out who I am soon enough. Please indulge my sense of drama, Ms. Cykes." The warmth emptied from his voice after that. "The trial is tomorrow. I've already paid for you and an assistant's boarding on a plane. It leaves for Gotham City tonight at 8pm. Have a nice flight." And with that he hung up.

"Who was that?" Phoenix Wright asked from the next room over. He was at the desk in his room, where he'd been most of that day, where he was most days: at his laptop.

Apollo turned towards the office. "It was a client!" he yelled at his boss. "Athena's got a case!" At that, Phoenix came running into the main room, obviously expecting someone to explain the news to him.

"Uh, well," Athena said, then coughed awkwardly. "There's someone who needs defending in Gotham City, and for some reason he wanted me. He paid for our plane ride over there. We're getting two hundred thousand dollars for the case."

The two men reacted as you'd expect someone would react to being told that they were receiving that kind of money. Apollo nearly fell over in shock, while Phoenix looked like he'd taken a blow to the head. Once the idea of that much money going to their dinky little office finally settled, Apollo and Phoenix were all smiles. "Oh man, we'd better pack then!"

Athena really wished she didn't have to spoil their mood, but…"Apparently, our client only paid for me and an 'assistant' to be flown over. If we all go, we'll have to pay that expense out of pocket."

The words fell into the air with a sudden weight. They knew they couldn't really afford flying another person to Gotham, not really. The city was about as far away as you could get while still being in the States. Apollo and Phoenix faced each other, their faces dead serious. Each man raised a fist, knocked into the air three times, and revealed their move. Apollo has chosen Rock, to counter his bosses Scissors. To his horror, a piece sign was not his opponents move, but a flat palm. Paper. Apollo hung his head in defeat. "I'll stay here while you're both gone, to keep an eye on Trucy. I'll be sure to keep the office clean."

"Wow, that's so mature Apollo! I hope I can accept defeat so gracefully in the future!" Athena said, clasping a hand on her coworker's shoulder. "I'm sure next time a rich client calls, they'll ask for you!"

A few hours later, Phoenix and Athena were all packed and ready after repeated trips to their apartments and back. They said goodbye to Apollo, who was trying his best to seem cheerful. Their cab arrived, and after a random search of Mr. Wright by airport security, they were on their plane and headed off towards the east. Towards Gotham City.


	2. Prologue, Part 2

There was a smile on Athena's face as she and her employer left the airport. "I forgot how much I love flying! All that time for yourself!" She had spent the evening taking naps and reading intermittently. The famed defense attorney Phoenix Wright was struggling not to show weakness in front of his protégé. He tried displaying the calmer, more confident mask he'd been using in the last several years, and he'd refrained from talking, knowing his student's ability to hear people's emotions would give him away immediately. Really, Phoenix was just glad he hadn't thrown up on the plane for once. Athena shivered visably, and asked, "I can't believe how cold it is here! Mein got, I had just started getting acclimatized to LA's weather, and now it feels like I'm back in Europe."

At that, Phoenix just shrugged. "Ever since that case I had on Hazakuru Mountain, I've actually been a lot better at resisting harsh weather. Nothing really compares to the winters in that snowy temple."

Athena put a finger to her chin, thinking. "Hazakura Mountain, huh? I can't remember which of your cases took place there. Want to tell me about it?"

A brief flash of memories stunned Phoenix for a second, but he shrugged it off and kept walking forward. "Maybe someday, Athena." He paused midstep, then strained his eyes to see out into the foggy darkness outside the airport, into the street. "Is that a limo?"

"Maybe that's our client!" Athena said before running out into the dark. Phoenix sighed and ran after her, arriving only seconds behind at the rearmost doors of the limo. Athena walked up to the driver side and knocked on the tinted window. "Hello, this is the Wright Anything Agency, are you the one who hired us?"

To Phoenix's surprise the window rolled down, and inside was the most stereotypical butler he'd ever seen. From his balding head, to his thin moustache, to his suit the man screamed 'butler'. He looked up to meet Athena's gaze. "Ms. Cykes? Yes, you look like the picture my master gave me. Please, would you get into the backseat? I've been told to drive you to the police department, so you can meet with your client." Phoenix didn't say anything: Athena was in charge of their defense this time, so he'd let her call the shots.

When Athena realized that Phoenix was waiting for her to speak, she smiled and replied with, "Really? Wouldn't it make more sense to talk with your master before going all the way to the detention center?"

"My orders were to take you there, ma'am. I wouldn't like to impose myself into the thoughts of my employer, but I don't think I'm overstepping by bounds to speculate that he wants you to see the case for yourself first." The man looked up into Athena's eyes and seemed completely unfasable in that instant. "I'd prefer it if you and your assistant entered the car now, ma'am. It's nearly three in the morning, and while your potential client is going anywhere I do feel as though we should hurry."

The two attorneys entered the limo, and the car started off into the night. Athena's eyes were glued to the window: even in the darkness she could see bits and pieces of Gotham fly by as the man drove. She'd never visited Gotham in all her glove-hopping, but she had always wanted to. The city had such a rich history, especially psychologically. Hundreds of psychologists had made their name trying and failing to analyze the many super-criminals of the city. Was that why she was here?

Phoenix, meanwhile, was looking around the car. It was immaculate, to the point where he honestly doubted the idea that the limo had ever been used before. That left several options for who was its owner, but he'd need more than that to prove anything.

The driver had been silent the entire time, only speaking up to tell them, "We are here." A quick look outside confirmed to Phoenix that they were indeed outside one of the many police departments in the city. They stepped outside, and once again the driver rolled down his window. "I'll be waiting out in the car for you to return. Just tell the desk sergeant your name and he'll take you to your client." Athena nodded and headed towards the large oak doors of the precinct, her stride purposeful. She hadn't told her friends, but she'd felt a little underappreciated at the office. She'd only had one case where she was the lead attorney, but Athena's power had been used in nearly every trial since she'd been hired. Now it was her time to shine!

Athena pushed open one of the doors and stepped inside, her boss following not far behind. Inside was a cramped room filled with many people, all of the either a cop or a person in handcuffs. Directly in front of them was a desk, a tired looking officer sitting behind it. They waited for a break in the people coming up to the man and ran up to see him. "Hello, my name is Athena Cykes, I'm an attorney with—"

"I know who you are," the officer said with a yawn. "Go in the door to your right, and then on for about thirty yards before you see a door on your left marked 'Visiting Area', your client should be there. Have a nice day." The officer said those last words with none of the cheer they implied, but considering what she'd heard about Gotham, she wasn't surprised. It wasn't exactly known for its cheer or its friendly police. She opened the door he'd pointed to and the two attorneys walked down the corridor in silence, the dim lighting and rustic décor sobering the mood. Gotham was an old city, and the police station hadn't been updated in at least half a century, maybe more.

They came across the sign they'd been told about, and went in its accompanying door. Inside was a visiting room very similar to the one in the LA Detention Center they had been to many times before. They walked over to the only booth, Athena catching sight of their client from the first time. She approached him from the person's right, and saw that it was a man wearing an orange jumpsuit typical to prisoners. Had he already been incarcerated for something? The client had dark brown hair, styled so that it stayed combed back. His face looked hard, weathered, despite the fact he didn't appear to be much older than Mr. Wright. But still, there was something that unsettled Athena by his appearance. He looked a little familiar, and there was something _off_. Something she couldn't quite place.

"**Why did you want to see me?**" came a rumbling basso voice from behind the glass. It was confident, sure in a way Athena had never really heard before. It was also…empty. It wasn't exactly emotionless like the Phantom's, but she couldn't read anything from him anyway. He turned towards them, and both attorneys stopped dead in their tracks.

His face was divided into two nearly equal halves. The right side, the one she'd seen, was that of a normal man. The left half was something out of a nightmare. His smooth, pale skin had been burned into dark scar tissue. His mouth was gouged and gnarled, baring his teeth to the world regardless of his expression. His hair on that side was nearly white and unkempt, almost as if it hadn't seen a brush in years. His left eye had no pupil, and Athena doubted he could see out of it.

Athena steeled herself, and walked over to sit in the chair, facing the man head-on. She heard Mr. Wright walk over to stand behind her, but she didn't let her gaze wander. This man required all of her attention. She tried putting on a smile that didn't seem as false as it felt, and replied to his question. "Hello, Mr. Dent, my name is Athena Cykes. I'm an attorney from Los Angeles, someone paid for me to come out here and take your case." It seemed as though a spark of interest was lit in his right eye, so Athena continued, "Could you answer some questions about your case?"

There was a pause, and the man looked down at the desk in front of him and picked up a silver dollar that had been lying there. He flipped it, looked at the result, and nodded. "**Heads. Ask your questions, Ms. Cykes.**"

Well, apparently that part of the myth was true. Any chance of him answering their questions was 50/50. Great. Athena steeled herself, and thought of what to ask first. "Well, then, let's start with the simple. What crime are they accusing of?"

Another flip, another nod. "**I've been accused of murdering Juan Morto, a security guard at Arkham Asylum.**"

Of course it was another murder case, Athena thought. It was rare for them to take any other kind of case. Alright then, time for another question. "How did Mr. Morto die?"

The man flipped his coin again, but this time he shook his head. "**Tails. Next question.**"

Athena wanted to slam her hands on the desk, punch the glass, maybe kick over the chair…anything to vent her frustration. This wasn't turning out well. She sighed and resolved to just hope for better luck next time. Now it was time for the big question. "Mr. Dent, did you do it? Did you kill that man?"

The tension in the room was thick as Mr. Dent flipped his coin; every eye followed the path of the metal as it flipped several times in the air, and fell to rest in his hand. He looked down at the result and nodded. Athena wanted to jump in the air in happiness, that was probably the most important question that needed answering. "**Heads. I didn't kill Juan Morto, or anyone else that night.**"

The relief in the visiting room was almost palpable; Mr. Wright actually let out an audible sigh. Athena was busy straining her ears, trying to analyze Mr. Dent's voice as best she could. She could pick out some emotions now: frustration, anger, sadness, and a thick underlying sense of resignation. But more than that it was clear to her that he had told her the truth, at least as far as he believed it. Still a little unsettled at that thought, and asked something else. "Well, if you didn't do it, do you have any clue who it was that did?"

Another flipped coin…and another shake of the head. "**Tails. Ask something else.**"

"What?!" Athena asked. "What does that mean?! If you know anything about who did it, you have to tell me! I'm here to help you, Mr. Dent!"

"**No.**" The man shook his head, his face still nonplussed despite her emotional outburst. "**Fate decided.**" Then, he paused for a second before asking something. "**Why do you keep referring to me as Mr. Dent?**"

The question surprised Athena. "Well, I'm not going to call you Two Face. You're Harvey Dent. Just because you have a mental disorder doesn't mean you're someone else." Silence.

"Athena, we better get going, it's getting late. We can talk with him more tomorrow," Phoenix said, looking towards the door. She sighed, but stood up anyway. Her boss had a point, and she was starting to run out of fumes.

They both started walking towards the exit, but were stopped by Harvey. "**Wait.**" Athena stopped mid-stride, waiting for him to continue. "**You're free to represent me in court, Ms. Cykes.**" With that, the attorneys exited the building and got inside the limo. Athena was ready to talk to their mystery caller: she had a client to protect.


	3. Prologue, Part 3

The limo drive was quiet, and the butler at the wheel didn't seem to have anything to say. Athena was looking out into the city street, scanning the city inquisitively. Phoenix was staring off into space, thinking. He was pretty sure he knew who the client was already, but he didn't want to say anything until there was some kind of confirmation. He'd learned some time ago that it always looked better to his employees if he appeared more omniscient and mysterious.

When they used the interstate highway to leave the city for its more rural outskirts, Phoenix let himself show a content smile: looks like he was right. Athena didn't realize where they were going until they pulled off a backstreet onto a dirt road that led to a gate. The butler hit a button on the dashboard, and the gate opened to let them drive through, up towards a massive mansion. Athena gaped at the sight of it. It was one of Gotham City's ancient landmarks, as recognizable as Arkham Asylum itself. The car stopped outside the entrance, and the butler even walked up to the passenger side and opened a door for them. "This is the master's home. Allow me to escort you to him."

The attorneys exited the car and followed the butler up to the front door. They were enormous doors, ancient yet still in good condition. They entered the mansion, and found the interior sparsely decorated with art, the floor carpeted by a rug that looked like it cost more money than all the buildings on the block the Wright Anything Agency was located at put together. It really hit Athena then, the level of wealth their client possessed. For him, two hundred thousand dollars was nothing. He could hire them for that much money every day for a year and barely notice. The idea was alien, and more than a little frightening. "This is the study, you will find you client inside waiting for you." The butler's words broke Athena out of her existential reverie, and she noticed that he was now standing to the right of a closed door. Athena steeled herself for a moment before reaching for the handle and entering the room, Mr. Wright following close behind.

The study looked like some of libraries she had seen in the universities in Europe. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with tomes of every subject, length, and origin. There was a fireplace, and just from the sight of it Athena knew that it was as old as the manor was, most likely colonial. Above the fireplace sat a large portrait, the scene rendered in beautiful oil paint. The subjects of the portrait were a couple, probably married by how close they were to each other. The man had the figure of a professional linebacker, but the lithe trim of a rich man who only worked out enough to keep in shape. It looked as if he was trying to appear serious for the occasion, but the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth showed the natural warmth he had possessed in life. A woman stood at his side, holding his hand. The woman was tall, nearly matching her husband in height. Her natural beauty and grace made her clothes and makeup irrelevant, though both were more than stylish for the time period. She had a certain calmness to her, a steady assurance that placed her as solidly in the portrait as a fine Greek statue. Athena had seen pictures of the couple before, but they hadn't captured the essence of the two in the same way this portrait did.

Several comfortable armchairs were positioned around the fireplace, and sitting in the most well-worn chair was a man. He was someone Athena had seen a million times before: in the news, on magazine covers, on the internet. He was one of the richest men in the United States, and his name was synonymous with his company. Athena took a deep breath and stepped into his field of view, trying to appear more professional than she felt. She extended her hand, smiling brightly. "Hello, Mr. Wayne."

Her words seemed to break the billionaire out of a quiet reverie; his eyes had been staring unfocused into the middle distance. That look had been very serious, very cold; different from the man she'd seen in the papers. When he heard Athena's voice, it was like he transformed into a completely different person. The strong line of his lips twisted into a warm smile, and his eyes lit with a fire that reminded her of Apollo. Bruce Wayne took her hand in his own, shaking it professionally. Mr. Wayne was tall, probably just over six feet, and he had the same bulky build as his father had. No, that wasn't quite right. There was definitely something different about it, but Athena couldn't really tell exactly what it was. It was at times like this she really wished Apollo had won the game of rock-paper-scissors, his eyes would've been able to sus out the right details immediately.

Oh, and he was gorgeous. It took all of Athena's willpower not to swoon on the spot; the fact she was shaking hands with one of the richest and most handsome men in the country just baffled and excited her. Then the handshake ended, and Mr. Wayne turned to face Mr. Wright. There was a silent moment where the two men stared into each other's eyes, as they sized each other up. "It's a pleasure to meet you both," Bruce Wayne said, "Especially the famous Phoenix Wright." His voice was low, but warm. Athena knew in an instant that it was the same voice she had spoken to over the phone earlier. On the surface, his voice was pleasant, polite, and she could tell he was genuinely enthused to meet them. She could also sense the worry and anxiety from before; he was obviously tense about Mr. Dent's fate. But that's not what caught Athena's attention, not really. She'd barely been able to pick it up over the phone, but now she could hear it as plain as day: the grief. Well, technically it wasn't grief. Melancholy was the more proper term. A quiet, deep melancholy underplayed his every word, quiet enough that anyone else wouldn't have heard it at all. Something was clearly wrong with Mr. Wayne, and to say it piqued Athena's psychological curiosity was an understatement.

Mr. Wright chuckled, and Athena knew from experience it was his attempt to sound professional, intelligent, and humble at the same time. She also knew from experience that most people just thought it was a little weird. "I don't know about that, necessarily, but I must say I never thought I'd be in the same room with a billionaire philanthropist."

Their client waved a hand at some nearby armchairs, and in a few moments the conversation continued with all of them seated. "Please, Mr. Wright, I hope you won't hold that over my head. I try to use my company to help those I can, but over your career you saved dozens of lives and put away several high-profile criminals."

Athena's boss inclined his head; an acknowledgement of the remark rather than approval of it. "Well then, Mr. Wayne, we were hoping to get more details of the case, if you can help with that."

The billionaire's handsome face hardened into a more stoic stance, and he reached over to hand a manila envelope to Phoenix. "My friend's at the local precinct gave me a copy of the autopsy report. The victim was a guard at Arkham Asylum, Juan Morto. A thunderstorm had knocked out the power to the building, and before they could get their system online again, several patients escaped. Harvey was one of them. They found him walking down a hallway, approximately twenty feet away from the room where Mr. Morto was murdered."

Mr. Wright nodded, processing the information. "It says here the murder weapon was a .22 caliber handgun. Did it belong to the guard?"

There was a short pause as Mr. Wayne thought about the question more. "I don't know. I can try and set up a meeting with the lead detective in charge of the investigation for tomorrow, hopefully she can answer more of your questions."

"I have a question," Athena said suddenly, causing them both to turn to look at her. That tripled her nervousness, but a steadying breath calmed her down enough to continue. "Mr. Wayne, why did you choose me for this case? Mr. Wright has the most experience at our firm, and there are thousands of attorneys across the country you could have called."

A smile played across Bruce Wayne's lips. "Ms. Cykes, do you remember a teacher of yours from university, a Professor John Blueburg?" Athena nodded. "I'm sure you both have heard the story, about how I watched as my parents were shot by a mugger." Mr. Wayne looked up at the portrait of the deceased couple before continuing. "At first I insisted that I was fine, that I could deal with it on my own, but my guardian refused to hear it. He sent me to the best therapists he could find, but my nine-year old self wasn't having any of it. All they wanted to do was talk about my dreams, about the unconscious mind, about so many things that a grieving child didn't care about. At the time Professor Blueburg had only been in the practice for a decade, and I didn't expect him to be any different than any of the other psychologists had been.

"But instead of beading around the bush, John started off bluntly. He wanted to know how I felt after their deaths, what I was thinking about. He listened to what I had to say, and all he did was offer me some advice: my parents were dead, and they weren't going to come back. What I did next was up to me. I could wallow in pity, and ruin the life my parents had died giving me…or I could do something with it. I could choose a cause, any cause, and devote my life to it. He pointed out that with the money and influence I could claim in time, there was very little I couldn't achieve, if I really wanted it." Mr. Wayne took a second to catch his breath, and look into Athena's eyes. "Professor Blueburg changed my life. All I've done since then it because of his influence. We kept in touch, checking in on each other every few years. The last time we talked, he told me about you, the psychologist who wanted to be a defense attorney. I've followed your career since then, as a hobby. I can't think of anyone in the world who is better suited to defend someone like Harvey Dent then you."

Athena was trying very hard not to blush. "I promise to show you that your confidence in me was not misplaced, Mister Wayne!" she said, smiling fiercely. It was then that she heard Mr. Wright yawn, and it took quite a bit of effort not to laugh at her employer's expense. "It's getting late; do you know where we could find an affordable motel while here in Gotham?"

Something about that must have been funny, because Bruce Wayne began to laugh. It wasn't a strong, bell-aching laugh, but it was a genuine laugh nonetheless. "I've already booked each of you a hotel room at the Gotham Plaza Hotel. If you want to retire for the night, I'll have Alfred drive you there immediately. I look forward to seeing your investigation progress tomorrow."

The two stood up and turned to leave, but Phoenix stopped before exiting the room. "I had one last question for you, if you don't mind: why? Why do you care so much about the life of Harvey Dent? And why is this trial so important?"

Mr. Wayne sighed. "Harvey and I are old friends, and I've been trying to reform him ever since his turn towards crime. Over the years his insanity has kept him from being executed, instead being placed in the care of the psychiatrists at Arkham Asylum. This time, the prosecution believes they have proof that he didn't flip his coin before killing Mr. Morto. They think he chose to murder him of his own free will, and if they succeed at convicting him for the crime they will push for the maximum punishment allowed by law: the death penalty."


	4. Investigation, Part 1

To Phoenix Wright's severe irritation, his young junior partner Athena Cykes decided to set their alarm for five in the morning, to ensure they'd be able to do some investigating before the trial. As the experienced attorney got dressed in his usual blue suit, trying to stifle the yawns straining to escape his lungs, he did his best not to hate Athena with all of his might. It was, after all, a good idea, considering that their late arrival last night had led to practically no progress on their investigation. This could be a major issue, especially considering that the trial was set to start in less than five hours.

Of course, all the logic in the world couldn't wipe the scowl from his face as they left their five-star hotel and hailed a taxi. Athena Cykes was not making her boss's mood any better as despite the early hours, lack of sleep, and freezing humid cold, she was all smiles. They got into the taxi, and it was at that exact moment they both simultaneously realized that they had no idea where they were going to go first. Time was limited. Athena turned to look at Phoenix, only to find him staring at her. "This is your case, Athena. I'm ready to follow your lead."

Athena felt the grin plastered on her face start to crack. This was big. Her boss was entrusting a major decision to her, one that could make or break this case. If she messed this up…Athena took a deep breath, steadying herself, thinking quickly. Obviously, there were three clear destinations available. They could visit the Detention Center again, trying to see their client a second time before the trial. They could head to the crime scene and hope they would be let in. Or… "Take us to GCPD headquarters, and step on it."

Despite her unspoken hope that the early hour would mean less travel time, the Gotham traffic, although lighter than it had been last night, was still choking the street enough that it took them nearly an hour to get to the home office of the Gotham City Police Department. The urgency of the situation is the only reason Athena was able to hurry out of the cab, down the street, and into the building. Had they not been so strapped for time, Athena would have been much more hesitant to enter the police department. While it was clearly not nearly as old as Wayne Manor, it had more history in its walls than any government building in L.A. It also looked like the walls would crumble and collapse if someone sneezed too hard.

Inside she found, in sharp contrast to the regimented, segmented office-style police department she was familiar with back home, a massive, open space with desks, filing cabinets, computers, and even a few jail cells haphazardly scattered around the room. Athena watched as police officers and detectives walked to and fro, this way and that. While not all of them were in open conversation, enough were that even in a room as enormous as that one the walls could barely contain the tidal wave of chattering. Athena wasn't ready for the wave of sound, or the emotions it carried for her. The voices filling the room to bursting were almost entirely colored by negative emotions. Sadness. Anger. A small amount of surprise. No joy. Phoenix put a hand on her shoulder, obviously noticing her reaction to the auditory storm that was buffeting her, but by that point it wasn't needed. Athena had taken a deep breath and used all her willpower to tune out emotions of others, and with that the room was slightly more pleasant. It still was nowhere close to genuinely enjoyable, as with its drab green carpeting, faded beige walls, and the cloying smell of cigarette smoke that clung to every surface achieving anything resembling comfort was fairly unlikely.

"I'm gonna guess you two're the lawyers," came a voice from their right. They turned to find a stocky, tall man well past the prime of his life staring at them. He wore a dark trenchcoat over what Athena was sure was once a fairly nice suit, and the bags under his eyes drooped low in the same way his thick cheeks did. Athena didn't need to focus very hard to clearly hear the emotions in his voice. This man was tired beyond belief, and she could understand why. Gotham led the nation in violent crime by a margin that was fairly terrifying, and the only reason it couldn't claim a complete monopoly in awful crime statistics was because Central City's nonviolent crime rate was so high that she wasn't sure how the economy there hadn't imploded after that many bank robberies. Being a cop in Gotham was a tough job, and it was clear not only from this man but from every officer in the room that it ate away at them. "I know you were told you was gonna be talkin' to the head detective on the Dent case, but she was called away by the state's prosecutor. You two might be bein' paid by the richest man in Gotham, but not even the Wayne brat can get what he wants every time."

This was definitely not the news Athena had wanted to hear, but nonetheless it wouldn't stop her from investigating the crap out of this case! "Do you have any details on the case we could use, Mr…?"

The man let out a scoff that almost sounded like a cough. "It's detective, girly, Detective Harvey Bullock. And yeah, I know a thing or two about what happened at Arkham. Maybe if you ask nice enough, I'll fill you in on what you need t' know."

Well, he was no ball of sunshine like the last detective she had worked with had seemed to be, but if he was willing to answer questions that was good enough for Athena. Most important thing first: "Do you have any evidence that I'll need before the trial?"

Bullock rolled his eyes, but nodded nonetheless. "The lead asked me to give you two this." The homicide detective pulled out a manila folder from one of his trenchcoats inner pockets and handed it to her. "This is a fancy schmancy official report from Arkham Asylum on what they know about Two Face's special brand of crazy."

Athena didn't like the way the detective had phrased that at all, but regardless, evidence was evidence. She took the folder from him only to find it much thinner than she would have thought. Opening it up revealed that the Arkham logo, various legal disclaimers, and other irrelevant information took up more than half of the single piece of paper inside. Thanks to her years in university majoring in psychology, Athena was easily able to decipher from what was there that they had absolutely no idea exactly what was wrong with Harvey Dent, but they knew that it manifested in an inability to make meaningful decisions without flipping a coin. Attempts to take the coin from him before had always failed, as he could make do with any kind of coin he could get his hands on, and so the Asylum provided him coins that they could track and trace. She wasn't sure if that's how she would go about treating him, but Athena didn't have all of the details and wasn't about to condemn a fellow psychologist using incomplete information. She tapped a finger to her chin as she thought before asking another question. "What can you tell me about the victim, Detective?"

To Athena's surprise, Detective Bullock pulled out a small notepad from a pocket and flipped through the pages before apparently finding the one he was looking for. "Dead guy was a guard at Arkham, Juan Morto. Apparently he was in his office when the freak showed up and gunned him down. Guy was a bachelor: no wife, no kids. This was his fourth month at the job, and his coworkers said he was ready to skip town and find something else. Can't say I blame the guy, Arkham ain't easy work."

Athena pressed the issue. "Had he made any enemies?" That got her a look from the detective. She rolled her eyes. "Anyone specific? Had he gotten on an inmate's bad side? Or was there a grudge with his coworkers?"

The homicide detectives face scrunched up in apparent effort, and he managed to say, "Oh yeah, I forgot, he ran over another guard's kid and then pulled his car around to get her husband. She wrote a memo about wanting to kill him yesterday." Still barely holding back laughter, the detective faked surprise, poorly. "Wait! Do ya think it was her?!" Athena just stood there, angry and embarrassed as the detective laughed and laughed. When he looked her in the eyes again, there was some genuine anger flashing out at her. "I don't care what you heard about Gotham, babe, but we do our damn jobs, same as anyone else. We didn't find no other suspects cept for your crazy ass client, and if he isn't guilty I'll kiss the damn Bat!"

Athena took a deep breath to steady herself and changed the subject. "Who is the prosecutor going to be?" That was the next step to preparing for this trial: who were they up against?

To her annoyance, Detective Bullock just shrugged. "I got no clue. It's nobody local, I can tell you that. Somebody did say tha-" Before he could finish his thought, they were interrupted by someone coming down the stairs from the second floor and towards them. He looked to be about the same age as Detective Bullock, and his dark face was graced by a specter of a smile. His formal attire was much cleaner than Harvey Bullock's, but the lines on his face added a somber quality to the man that matched the grey of his suit.

"Harv, I think you've bothered our guests quite enough." The man turned to face Athena, and extended a hand. "Detective Crispus Allen, pleasure to meet you. I was told to escort you to the commissioner's office, if you don't mind leaving Detective Bullock to retreat back to…whatever it was he was doing." Athena gave Detective Bullock an apologetic look, but nodded her head. She and Mr. Wright followed Detective Allen as he calmly walked back to the stairs, twisting and dodging around his fellow cops with a relaxed familiarity. Athena did her best to follow up the stairs and when Detective Allen pointed to an office at the far end of the hall, she headed towards it. Her innards were in knots, and the lack of quality lighting in the hall made the walk towards the office door even worse.

Yesterday she had met one of the most famous men in Gotham City, and now she was about to meet another. After reaching the door, Athena raised a gloved hand and politely knocked on the frosted glass. "Come in," came a muffled voice from inside. It took a few deep breaths, but Athena was able to reach her hand to the doorknob and twist, pushing the door open. Despite the fact that this was the office of one of the most well-known public officials in the city, the room was fairly spartan. There were two chairs in front of an old, weathered oak desk, some paintings on the walls, and a few plastic plants near the walls. Said walls had obviously not been painted over in quite a while, since the paint was cracked and visibly peeling in many places. The desk was on the side of the room opposite the door, and aside from manila folders and pieces of paper the only item adorning its surface was a small picture frame, turned towards the commissioner so as to leave its contents a mystery to guests.

The man sitting behind the desk, facing Athena and Mr. Wright, was someone she had seen on the news many a time, giving statements or making comments. He had even appeared a few times in her modern history and psychology classes. Commissioner James Gordon wasn't a tall man, nor was he powerfully built. His red hair and mustache had streaks of gray in them, despite the fact that he was still in his early fifties. Despite any of that, the man radiated a quiet, resolute strength. His posture, his expression, his eyes behind his glasses, they all carried a weight behind them that didn't seem to hamper him in the slightest. "Ms. Cykes, Mr. Wright." He extended a calloused hand from across the desk as they sat down. They each shook it in turn. "It's a pleasure to meet the both of you." From anyone else, Athena would have chocked that up to a rote, polite comment. But from the genuine smile hiding under his facial hair and the warmth radiating from his voice, Athena knew that Commissioner Gordon meant every word.

Athena gave the man her usual million-watt smile, excited at this prospect. "It's an honor to meet you, sir. Nearly every class I took in university about the modern era of heroes mentions you by name!"

That comment seemed to make his expression sour. "Not all of them had good things to say about me, I'll wager." Athena tried not to let that dampen her enthusiasm, but he had a point. People today were still fairly split on his stance towards the city's resident vigilante. Some had cited his co-operation as a leading cause to the radical increase in super-crime in the city, while others noted that the trend had started before Gordon's tenure as commissioner, under his predecessor Commissioner Loeb, who had taken a hardline anti-vigilante stance. Working with their local hero had, by many estimates, worked more to stamp down the local supercriminal population than to bolster it. Athena respected the man and his choices greatly, but she could see now that his choices had more consequences than she had thought. This wasn't a man loved by his city.

Mr. Wright chose this moment to speak up. "Commissioner, I can say with confidence that those at the Wright Anything Agency have nothing but admiration for you and your work."

A hesitant smile returned to Gordon's face. "Wright 'Anything Agency'? I thought you ran the famous 'Wright and Co Law Offices'?"

Athena's boss laughed a little awkwardly in response. "Yeah, that used to be the business's name, but I changed it for my daughter. She's a magician."

The commissioner let out a quiet but warm chuckle. "We'll do anything for our daughters, won't we?" A note of sadness appeared in the sound of his voice that Athena only barely caught. The moment passed, however, and the commissioner's gaze turned back to Athena. "I'm aware that you'll be defending Harvey Dent in today's trial, but what I don't know is why. What reason would a lawyer from the West Coast have for flying out to Gotham to defend one of its infamous supercriminals?"

Unsure, Athena tried to stealthily look at Mr. Wright, and caught a slight nod from him. Athena let out a small breath. "We were called the day of the crime by Bruce Wayne, who paid for our plane ride here and our hotel costs. That, and a ton of money to defend Mr. Dent."

That response raised the commissioner's eyebrows. Then something seemed to occur to him, and he let out a long sigh. "I should have guessed…" His eyes locked with Athena's, his gaze piercing. "He already told you, didn't he? About the fact that they were friends back before Harvey's accident?" Without Athena consciously moving or saying anything, he nodded. "I thought so. Every weekend, Wayne has his limo take him to the Asylum so he can play chess with Dent. I've told him it's a stupid idea at least a dozen times, but that man's skull is thicker than his wallet. He refuses to believe that Dent is beyond help."

Athena cleared her throat, unsure if she was stepping into something she shouldn't. "Commissioner, do you believe that my client is beyond help?"

The question seemed to catch him off-guard. His eyes went distant, and he sat in thought. Eventually, his eyes drifted to the picture frame on his right. "I…I don't know," he replied honestly. "I want to think there's still some of the district attorney I worked with in there, I really do. But after all he's done…" His eyes focused again, and when he spoke he sounded tired. "The reason I had you brought over here, why I wanted to see you before the trial started. Why did you really take the case? You could have told Bruce Wayne to go suck a lemon and go back home, but you didn't. Instead, you're defending in court one of the most despised people in this city. Why would you do that?"

Without even pausing to think, Athena looked at the commissioner and replied confidently, a smile on her face, "Because I believe in him. He told me he didn't kill anyone that night, including the victim, and I believe every word of it." Her eyes fell upon a clock on the wall she'd missed before, which read 6:47am. She stood up, and her boss followed her lead. "I'm sorry commissioner, but we're going to have to cut this short. I don't have too much time before the trial starts, and I need to talk with my client again. Thank you for the hospitality." With that, the two of them left the room and headed outside. There was only three more hours until the trial started. They had to get to the Detention Center.


End file.
